Taken In
by DemonCatWithASpork
Summary: Ciel decides to finally get revenge on Grell for the death of Madam Red. Can the reaper survive long enough for his disappearance to be noticed?
1. Chapter 1

**Taken In**

"You are sure no one escaped?"

"No one, sir."

"Good. We can finally put this tiresome event behind us. The Queen will be pleased to know th—"

"Master!"

Sebastian started slightly as the young lord fell back. He stooped to catch him before the child's head could connect with the cobblestone road that led back to the earl's townhouse.

"You have been awake much later than expected," Sebastian spoke to his half asleep master, "You should have told me to finish them off sooner. Then perhaps you could have avoided your injury."

The butler's words seemed to register in the boy's mind. Ciel blinked and then quickly frowned as he gauged his position. Sebastian was in the process of lifting him up into his arms.

"Put me down, Sebastian, I can walk on my own."

"It appears you cannot, my lord. This is the third time you have fainted now. Perhaps you lost more blood than you previously realized."

"Don't be absurd, it was merely a graze," Ciel said and would not meet Sebastian's stare. Ciel was already frustrated at this latest case that had taken a whole month to solve. And his embarrassment for a miscalculation that caused their being ambushed by a gunman from behind just fueled his frustration more. Ciel's hand went to the bandage on his upper left arm as a twinge caused him to wince. A small patch of blood could be seen seeping its way to the surface.

"Young master, it would be in your best interest if you allowed me to attend to you quickly. That house did not have all the necessary supplies needed to treat that graze of yours," Sebastian eyed the wound and a smirk twitched at the edge of his mouth.

The struggles of the past month with yet another drug-dealing nobleman, the near disaster of that night's faceoff, and Sebastian's teasing made Earl Phantomhive's temper snap. Ciel shot him a glare, "Do you defy me? I will not die from this, I will not allow it. Now do as you are told and _put me down_. That is an order!"

Ciel was breathing hard as he hurriedly walked on through the moonlit streets. The wound pained him more than he cared to admit. At that moment, knowing that Sebastian was right made him even angrier. Those idiots back there were now all dead, but they had made Ciel seem the fool. Someone would pay. Ciel was going to make sure of that. Someone would pay dearly.

…_..wet rose?_

That was a very strange scent to be permeating the London streets, and yet there it was. Ciel stopped short and looked around. Where was that smell coming from? It was not exactly unpleasant, but something about it filled Ciel with disgust.

"Young master?"

Ciel looked up ahead. The moon was shining and Ciel made out the silhouette of someone he recognized but was none too pleased to see. That _thing_ was on a roof. Ciel still felt his stomach churn whenever he saw his aunt's coat wrapped around the redheaded fool.

_What can that idiot be up to now?_

But maybe this was the work of providence. That man killed Madam Red and he had never been sufficiently punished to Ciel's satisfaction.

"Sebastian."

"My lord?"

Ciel raised his hand to point at the red mass on the roof.

"Bring him."

He was out for blood.

Well, when was there a night that he _wasn't_ hunting that rich red substance? As a reaper it was a rather unavoidable circumstance. Not that Grell minded in the slightest. There could never be too much of that wonderful color.

He should be moving along now though. He was running a bit behind schedule but what could Will expect? Will had to have known that giving him an assignment so close would result in nothing less. So Grell had dropped by the Phantomhive brat's home to see his beloved Sebas-chan, but found no one home much to Grell's immense disappointment. He would just have to find entertainment elsewhere, and a few painted corpses would certainly cheer him up. Grell stopped to double check his ledger for his next victim and took a bearing on his location.

_Was that the wind?_

London was a pretty enough city, but he would make it beautiful. Just a few artistic spatters would have a marvelous effect. Grell looked up at the full moon overhead. Might there be some way for him to paint that red too? The glowing orb had such remarkable patterns…Grell wished he could accentuate at least a few spots in the supreme color. It would make late nights with a lover even more romantic. He thought of how wonderful a passionate kiss under a red moonlit night would be.

_That aura…_

Grell tore himself away from his fantasy. It couldn't be…could it?...this late at night? Grell began to turn but a searing pain from behind swept through his body and sent him plummeting to the ground.

Grell released a low groan. What on earth had hit him? How long had he been unconscious? Well, semi-conscious. It is no easy task to completely knock out a reaper, but Grell being caught unawares had certainly helped his assailant. Grell had a vague memory of being carried…blue hair…careless words…taken down—oh hell it was no use. Grell shook his head a little, but immediately regretted the movement. The memories were still rather hazy for the moment. Grell tried to sit up but quickly discovered he was already standing. He moved to feel the back of his head but he could not move his arms. His senses returned to him enough that he realized his wrists had been shackled above him. No matter, Grell knew he could break those easily. He braced up and yanked downward,

"Ah! What the hell?"

His fetters did not yield and his efforts merely resulted in the metal cutting his wrists. Blood seeped out of the cuts and immediately made the area between his skin and the metal irritated and slick. A few drops began to run down his arm staining his clothes.

"Chains even a reaper cannot break?" Now Grell began to worry a little.

"So you are awake."

Grell's eyes shot forward but he didn't see much. The room was black as pitch and smelled foul and damp. Despite this, Grell could make out two pinkish orbs that couldn't have been more than a few yards away from him. Those were eyes. No, wait…those were _his_ eyes!

"Sebas-chan?"

A match was struck to light a candle and Grell blinked in surprise. Once his eyes adjusted he was able to see the pristine gloves, that fabulous tailcoat, the devilish smirk…

"Sebas-chan! It is you! I'm so glad you're here! You can break me loose can't you? For some reason I can't…but that doesn't matter now that you're here to save me!"

Sebastian's smirk widened, "Now why would I set you free?"

Grell frowned in puzzlement, "But…"

Sebastian approached the chained reaper with long, deliberate strides, "I already went to the trouble of containing you," he ran a finger down Grell's chest slowly undoing his vest buttons, "I am certainly not going to be the one who releases you."

Grell shivered as he realized what Sebastian was getting at. Although the chains were a nice touch, Grell thought he could have picked a more romantic setting. Nonetheless, he grinned.

"I see. Did you have…other ideas?"

Sebastian spoke quietly, "Oh, yes."

Grell's eyes were half lidded. He had often fantasized about the day this man would take him and it was finally happening. He blushed a little under that gaze and felt Sebastian's warm breath hovering just beyond his lips. Just a little closer and he could….

Grell shrieked in surprise and pain as a knife was buried deep into his stomach. He looked down wondering where the hell it had come from. He was appalled to see Sebastian's hand on the other end of the knife. Grell looked up to see a grin accompanying those demonic eyes.

"Oh, my apologies Grell, perhaps your ideas and mine were headed in different directions?" Sebastian sloooowly pulled the knife out of Grell's body and a wide stain of red quickly spread across the white shirt.

Although he loved that color, especially on someone as beautiful as himself, Grell was not thrilled with the way events were now turning. He did not entirely enjoy such pain if no pleasure was to be found with it and damn if that knife hadn't stung.

"What the hell are you doing?" Grell was angrier now rather than in pain as he had already mostly healed.

"Merely following orders," Sebastian said calmly as two more knives were driven into Grell's body and more blood began to spill.

"Gah! Damnit! Stop that Sebastian!"

"So sorry, but my master's orders are absolute," Sebastian tilted his head with a little smile not looking at all apologetic.

"What _orders_ did the little brat give you this time? I'm flattered you are making such a fuss over me but really a lady sh—"

Grell's words were cut short as Sebastian's hand quickly closed around his windpipe. Grell choked on his words as Sebastian squeezed and the sensation was even more uncomfortable since Grell could not use his own hands to grasp at the hand at his throat.

"I would appreciate it if you did not speak about my master in such a way. That could end very badly for you indeed."

A final squeeze and Sebastian released his grip. Dark blue stripes could already be seen around Grell's neck.

"And to answer your question: make him suffer."

"W-what?" Grell managed to sputter.

"You asked me what my master's orders were. I was told to make you suffer."

"Why the h-hell…does the kid want _me_ to suffer?"

"Madam Red."

Grell was thoroughly confused, "But that…that was months ago!"

Sebastian sighed, "I'm afraid you caught my master at a bad time. He is still a child after all, and even the best children are capable of throwing tantrums. But I will continue to follow his commands no matter how foolish they may be. I cannot do so with you healing so quickly, however. Let's see what we can do to fix this little dilemma shall we?"

Sebastian flicked his wrists and his hands were soon full of knives. With a wicked grin, he advanced upon the captive reaper.


	2. Chapter 2

**Taken In-Ch. 2**

_Date…Dispatcher Name…Details on reassignment…Signature_

_Date…Dispatcher Name…Denied request on vacation time…Signature_

_Date…Dispatcher Name…Transferred to a new division…Signature_

_Date…Dispatcher N-_

William's head throbbed. The long, continuous pulse left his entire head feeling like it was stuffed with very pointy wires. He glanced at the stack of papers that was still three inches high and then looked at the clock sitting on his desk.

_6:48 pm_

No way could he get all of the forms checked and filled before he was allowed to leave at seven-thirty.

_Overtime… again_.

This was getting ridiculous. William rose from his leather-backed chair and walked around the mahogany desk to the large double paned window. From here, he could see the comings and goings of various reapers, some from different departments. William wiped a smudge off of the white frame of the window with a thumb, and spotted Ronald in his cubicle looking very intent on his paperwork. Ronald looked up, and spying William's gaze on him, jumped guiltily and started writing on a different sheet of paper. William narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

He shifted his gaze over to Grell's usual place in the office. Grell was still not there. Not one boisterous declaration had been heard or even a strand of red hair seen of him for three weeks. William turned away not wanting to look at the void any longer. The first week, William had been irritated. The second, he was angry. Now this third week of the redhead's absence was drawing to a close and William was trying not to notice. He had a pretty good idea of where Grell was, if his most recent assignment was anything to go by. But ever since Grell's first demotion from the Jack the Ripper incident, he had never tarried more than a day or two, even though these excursions always led to extra paperwork being assigned to him.

_But this seems different._

He returned to his seat. Resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, William folded his hands and tried to make some sense out of his thoughts. He couldn't put his finger on what was troubling him. What was this, worry? No, not that. If anything, William was still incredibly angry that Grell had disappeared without the slightest warning to _any_one. Oftentimes, Grell would make a comment to someone in the division, bragging about where he was headed or who he was going to see. But this time: nothing.

_With my luck, he has gone off to play butler again for some human._

At that thought, fresh anger swept through William. He slid an index finger up the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up further. William leaned forward, picked up his pen and continued to fill out the reports and notices from the stack of papers to take his mind away from the red nuisance.

_If he wants another demotion, then that is exactly what he will get._

_Date…Dispatcher Name…-_

Grell was barely able to remain conscious. His feet barely touched the ground, and if not for the chains still holding his arms up, he would have been a miserable heap on the cold and damp stone floor. The restraints had dug deeper into his wrists from Grell's initial thrashing. Oh yes, he had fought. Grell Sutcliff was not one to give in so easily. But it had all been to no avail. Sebastian had simply stood out of reach of any of Grell's violent throes. Grell merely injured himself more quickly.

The puddle of blood around the reaper's feet had expanded every day. Sebastian had been true to his word, and had "fixed" Grell's automatic healing in more ways than one. Although Grell could not see anything in the dark, he knew what was protruding from his body; he could feel each piece with every slight shift of discomfort. Sebastian had discovered his advantage in leaving the silverware imbedded in the skin, rather than removing them immediately. This caused severe agitation for Grell. His body kept attempting to heal but it couldn't do so properly with the foreign metal substance blocking the way. The result was an incomplete healing that continued to bleed. Anytime his blood clotted around a piece of cutlery, Sebastian would drive another piece deep into flesh, and sometimes striking bone as well. The thick, metallic smell of blood that hung in the air was nauseating. Smell and feel were the only senses Grell could use; there was never any light to see by except when Sebastian came down to continue carrying out his master's orders. Grell almost came to fear the flickering candlelight when it appeared day after day, signaling Sebastian's presence.

After three weeks, Grell's mind was in a haze from loss of blood and lack of food. He was fed once a week, which might have been considered a kindness. After all, he didn't need food, but this too was just part of Sebastian's sick job. In the following days, Grell's hunger would only intensify and add another ache on top of all the cuts, gashes, and bruises Sebastian left every day. Grell ate so that at least a few cuts or bruises would heal. Food deprivation had done much to sap is energy. That energy was needed for his healing, but now he was at a point where he could barely swallow.

Grell coughed and every one of his injuries screamed at him. He felt a trickle of blood escape the corner of his mouth and run down his chin. He thought of trying to sleep, even though he now had fitful dreams that made him jerk violently, and he would awaken, crying out in pain. But no one heard him upstairs except Sebastian. The cellar walls were thick.

Grell saw a tiny light in the distance and began to tremble. Sebastian was coming. The sound of shoe hitting stone echoed down the small path that led to the area where Grell was kept. Sebastian soon appeared holding a candle in one hand and a bottle and a rag in the other.

"Grell, wake up."

Grell said nothing. It hurt to talk. From a corner of his eye, Grell saw Sebastian place the rag and glass bottle down on the floor and walk toward him. Sebastian flicked at a fork he had embedded in one of Grell's broken ribs. Grell's head lolled back as a whimper escaped him.

"Grell, you should wake up. I have good news for you. It is time to clean you up," Sebastian lifted the candle so the light shown upon the reaper.

Grell looked and was horrified at what he saw. He looked like a reaper pin cushion. He was too dazed to count the number of the many knives and forks sticking out of his body, including his legs. Each one was caked, and some were still dripping, in his blood. His white shirt had turned a maroon color from the mixture of wet and dry blood that had spread through it. What he could not see were all the bruises that were sure to be underneath his clothes, and the dark patches on his face and neck.

Without any warning, Sebastian swung at Grell's face. Grell shrieked as he felt a wound open up across his face from the top of the right side of his forehead down to the left side of his chin. It was very steep and very painful. Grell's whole body hurt, even his mind hurt, but what hurt most of all for him at that moment was that it was his Sebby who was doing all these horrible things. Sebastian had been rough with him before, but not daily with careful planning on what would be done next. Before, it had been a game to Grell. He had been free to defend himself, but now he was defenseless. Blood streaked down Grell's face, and uncontrollable tears soon escaped from behind his closed eyes.

Sebastian stood, pondering the state of Grell's face, "Hmm…It appears that I was wrong. The color does not suit your face as much as you wish it did. But no matter…"

Sebastian exchanged the candle in his hand with the bottle and rag he brought. Grell heard the sound of liquid sloshing before Sebastian came at him again. Sebastian held Grell's face in one hand, and with the other, he wiped the wet rag across Grell's face.

Grell was screaming before the smell of the alcohol registered to him. Blood and sweat soon dirtied the rag Sebastian was using. Drips of alcohol made the fresh gash on Grell's face burn with such intensity, that Grell imagined his face was on fire. The scream resounded through the cellar, but Sebastian took no notice. Grell's face was red and raw by the time Sebastian released him. Sebastian said no more to Grell that day, only picked up his candle and walked calmly back upstairs, where life was a brighter and happier place.

Grell wept silently in the dark. His face continued to burn. The intense throbbing that followed made him dizzy. He wondered how long he would be able to keep himself together. No one at the Shinigami Dispatch Association would take much notice of his disappearance. This wasn't the first time he hadn't been present for work for a significant length of time. No one would notice… unless…

_William…_

If there was any shinigami to detect Grell's absence and care, that one would be his William T. Spears. At this point, Grell didn't care if Will only came to address Grell's "dereliction of duty" as Will would say. But…how long would it take for even Will to come looking for him? Grell had been gone longer before. William would take his time if he was particularly angry about things. But he _would_ come. Grell was certain of it. Grell knew that William cared. William would come. He would…

_W-Will—iam…_

Grell mouthed the words. It was the best feeling he had had in the last three weeks. He mouthed the name again and began to cry harder.

_He'll come. He has to!_

Grell panted from the exertion of pulling his head up. The screams of pain assaulted his body, but he was determined to scream louder still. "WILLIAM! SAVE ME!"

His cry quickly earned him a fit of raspy coughs. Bile and blood spewed from his mouth and made sickening noises as they splattered the ground. His body protested the excess effort and pain quickly overwhelmed his mind. Slumping back against his restraints, he waited.

….There was no answer. No one came.

Grell hung his head in defeat as a fresh wave of tears rolled down his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Taken In-Ch. 3**

Since Grell's disappearance, the entire London division had been suffering taxing overtime. While Grell Sutcliff was considered one to avoid by many of the association due to his various eccentricities, no one could deny his prowess as a shinigami, even if he was a bit reckless. Even so, most of the division had stopped caring that the redhead was gone. At the seventh week with no Sutcliff, many now just quietly ignored the immense lack of red in their lives as they slogged through the never ending work of human death.

William walked through the door into his office after a weary day in the field. He had not escaped the effects of Grell's absence either, but while so many had allowed the redhead to drop from their minds, William still had a tiny flicker of that vibrant color tucked at the back of his thoughts. He was worried. Still immensely irritated, but worried nonetheless. William placed his death scythe across his desk and sank down into his chair, exhausted. The workweek was over and the building was empty, but William was ever determined to file at least a few of his own forms from the day's collections.

William removed his glasses and wiped a handkerchief that he pulled from an inside jacket pocket across the lenses. He replaced the handkerchief and rubbed his hand across his eyes. William would never allow his workers to see such relaxed actions. He had an image to uphold. He massaged his temple to forestall the threatening headache and then slid his glasses back into place. He felt gentle hands rub his shoulders and a familiar whisper in his ear — _Will… You work so hard. Won't you let me help you relax?_

William jumped and looked around. No one was there. But… that _had_ been Grell's voice. William would never mistake that voice for any other. He shook his head. Overtime and exhaustion were getting to him. William would have gone after Grell sooner if there had once again been irregularities in the records, but all the records were accounted for. No one had died prematurely. However, Grell had so lodged himself in William's mind that not a day went by, even with the excessive amount of work, where William had not thought for just the briefest of moments about where Grell might be. Was he alright? William leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was still angry, but with each passing day, a little bit of that anger would dissipate and reform as worry. For Grell to be gone so long with no word… something could have actually happened.

_Do not be absurd. Grell is capable of looking after himself… most of the time. But if he does not return soon, I am going to have to find the time to go looking for him again. Honestly._

William told himself to open his eyes and get a few papers done before heading home for the night. For once, fatigue was a little more persuasive. William's mind wandered through a few thoughts of the punishment Grell might get settled with this time for his negligence. William had not gotten so tired from a workday in quite some time. His mind fogged…

A blood-curdling scream surrounded William. Flashes of red—_blood_—slitted eyes—_him_—and one whispered plea, '_Will,_' flew through the darkness behind William's eyes before he jerked them open. The scream still echoed in his head. He rose. William was not entirely certain how, for he did not really take stock in such things, but he knew that Grell was in real trouble. He also knew damn well where the redhead was. He picked his death scythe up from his desk. Never mind fatigue. When the redhead spoke his name, it had fled from his body. William T. Spears was going to save the one person who mattered to him.

_Honestly, the things I do for him…_

Grell did not know how long he had been in darkness. Weeks, years — it didn't matter. He was still alone with his pain. He was still alone with one thought he struggled to keep hold of. Although his entire being seemed to have gone numb, pain still swept through his body in periodic waves, making him dizzy.

_William… _That one word still pulsed in his mind, a small beacon of hope.

That beacon was growing dimmer with each passing minute that Grell was hanging suspended from blood-splattered chains. An immeasurable amount of blood had been spilt from the cuts and gashes of Sebastian's daily beating, and Grell was now too weak to even attempt eating for the lesser injuries. His throat was dry and his breathing came in raspy pants. The only liquid he had consumed recently was his own blood, which he accidently swallowed sometimes after a strike from Sebastian made him cough some up. His head hung limply as though already dead.

He barely heard the footsteps as they approached. In his bloody stupor, Grell's mind told him that William was the one walking down to him. William had finally come to free him from this hell. Soon, instead of the clammy, blood-stained wall at his back, Grell would feel William's arms holding and protecting him.

When Grell heard Sebastian sigh, the last of his resolve left his body. The realization that he would surely be trapped forever in the dark with the smell of his own filth filled his mind. He could not last forever and William still had not come. Grell wondered if he would even be able to feel any more pain. He did not feel much these days. That question was quickly answered for him.

"The end is still coming, Grell," Sebastian said. "I doubt anyone will even notice that you are gone, seeing as you are still here."

Grell heard the sickening squelches as knives and forks of varying sizes were moved about underneath his skin. If he could have held back the pain induced tears, he would have—to cry before his captor felt degrading. Then agony—terrible, searing pain expanded across his body as though his insides were being ripped and laid out to rot. The crackling of clotted blood being broken and then cold air stung the freshly opened wound.

Grell gasped as his body went into shock. Sebastian was tearing every piece of cutlery out, one by one. _Rip_—pause for two seconds—_Riiiip._.. Wet and clotted blood clung to the silverware and oozed down the blades. Each time one was removed, fresh blood gushed forth freely. Shins, femur, ribs, biceps, triceps—again and again, Sebastian tore away at Grell's once flawless skin, followed by the light clatter of the silver hitting the stone floor. The bits imbedded in bone were the worst. Sebastian twisted these ever so slightly so as to scrape along the bone as they were wrenched out. A scream formed in Grell's stomach and came out as a gurgle as he ended up spitting bloody vomit from his mouth, soaking his clothes.

"Oh, were you trying to call for your beloved William? How very foolish of you. Perhaps you should try again and see what happens."

Grell felt the final knife slip excruciatingly slowly from left shoulder. He heard Sebastian place his gloved hand against the wall near the left side of his face. He felt the blade, warm and wet with his own blood, slide beneath his drooping chin. Sebastian pushed at the blade and Grell raised his bloody, tear-stained face to look at him. Grell could not speak, but his eyes said everything to Sebastian's look of immense tedium. He had given up. He had been broken and humiliated and could not survive any longer. He would die, now, in the dark, defenseless and alone.

"Maybe your throat next…" Sebastian grinned.

As Sebastian leaned forward, Grell tried not to think of what new terrors Sebastian had planned for him. His head swam and hearing began to fade, but Grell registered a thud as something struck the wall to his left. The knife left his throat and his head immediately hung low, but the noise had confused him. Summoning his last ounce of strength, Grell forced his head to rise a few inches. He could not immediately make sense of what he saw—a metal rod stuck out from the wall where its blade had pinned Sebastian's hand. A final thought brushed through Grell's mind before he lost consciousness—

He knew that scythe…

William barely managed to maintain his composure at the sight before him. The cellar walls wept blood and pools of the red liquid surrounded the area at the far end of the room where thick chains hung from the ceiling. But the blood was not the only attributing factor to the nauseating stench of the room; the demon scum was just as hard to tolerate.

William could not quite see what the demon was doing, but whatever was happening had to stop. However, while he had left the office invigorated, he still felt the lateness of the hour in his limbs. William was not in the best condition to come to blows with the demon for Grell's freedom. He would need to be diplomatic. The scythe barely made a sound as William quickly extended the length and imbedded the blade into the white spot on the wall in front of him that was Sebastian's hand. Sebastian turned, eyes flashing for an instant until he recognized the intruder. William wasted no time.

"You will release Reaper Sutcliff now, filth."

"Will I?" Sebastian smirked over his shoulder.

"Yes. I must make it quite clear that I cannot allow you to dispose of one of our members. The collections department is still shorthanded. As a member of management, I will not tolerate any unnecessary inconveniences from the likes of _you_."

"Perhaps you should keep a better watch on the members of your staff. This one especially. He seems to be quite adept at eluding you. I am afraid I cannot comply with you while your death scythe is lodged in my hand."

William's brow furrowed in suspicion, "You are not going to stop me?"

"I am not," said Sebastian, "nor do I particularly enjoy taking the time to deal with him every day. My orders did not require me to contain him, so I am free to release him when I choose."

"And yet you did not free him immediately."

"I had no reason to, and it would have been troublesome to find somewhere to put him. But now you are here."

William adjusted his glasses with his free left hand, "Very well."

He withdrew his scythe, allowing Sebastian to turn and face him. As Sebastian stepped to his left, William got his first decent look at Grell. He had to stop himself from reaping the demon on the spot. Grell was unconscious, hair matted with blood that was seeping from countless holes in his body. Why was he not healing? That worried William more than anything. A reaper who could not heal was as good as dead in their line of work. Dark black and blue patches could be seen here and there through the blood and gashes in Grell's clothes. In all the years that William had known Grell, he had never seen the redhead in such a state as he was just then. William was infuriated, but he would not show it. He was not here to put an end to the fiend. He was here to get Grell out of harm's way, but he shot Sebastian a look of pure venom, "Demon scum."

Sebastian grabbed Grell's hair and pulled his head back. The right side of Grell's face and his neck was covered in wicked black welts. Sebastian put the knife back to Grell's throat and smiled, "I could save us both the trouble by cutting just a little deeper."

William's scythe extended once more to snatch the knife from Sebastian's fingers. "Enough. Release him now or I swear I will reap you where you stand."

Sebastian continued to smile but made no response. He reached inside his coat and withdrew a small key. With a flick of his wrist, he threw it at William. As he caught the key, William noticed that the metal was warm against his fingers, almost hot. Sebastian strode quietly past William and down the small hallway to return up the stairs to his master.

Once the demon was gone, William walked quickly to Grell's side. A look of disgust crossed his face as his shoes splashed the puddles of blood covering the floor. He retracted his scythe a bit more and tucked it away in his suit jacket. William put his hands on either side of Grell's face and lifted it so he could see him properly. The fiery reaper was as cold as a deep freeze in winter.

"Sutcliff, wake up."

Nothing.

"…Grell?"

The redhead would not stir in the slightest. No matter what orders his superior gave, Grell continued to hang limply from the chains, unresponsive. A stab of pain went through William's chest as he realized that he could barely feel a pulse. Had William waited even another day, Grell would have died at the hands of that _thing_. William hoped Grell would show some more signs of life by the time he got him home.

William unhooked the chain of Grell's glasses that were hanging around his neck, folded them, and placed them in an inside pocket of his jacket. Reaching up, William unlocked Grell's left hand. As he pulled the metal from Grell's wrist, William had to tear at the clotted blood that had all glued itself to the shackle. Grell's skin was pulled from his wrist and it clung to the sticky, blood-stained metal. Fresh blood began to slide down Grell's hand. The second shackle did the same thing; William supported Grell on one side as he released the other hand and skin was peeled back from the wrist. Grell's form slumped and William winced as he heard a loud cracking sound. He was pretty sure Grell now had at least three completely broken ribs. William sighed and slipped his left arm under Grell's legs and picked the redhead up. William had to get Grell home, and quickly. William was not sure what would happen if he allowed Grell Sutcliff to die.

Can I just say thank God for my wonderful beta tester Zoni ? This was not an easy chapter . Don't know what I would do without her!


	4. Chapter 4

**Taken In-Ch. 4**

Grell had been vaguely aware of someone carrying him. The warmth of the arms holding him was an immense difference to the chilled cellar that he had been confined to for weeks. He was too delirious to wonder who the person might be and he could not open his eyes. His body felt like lead. All that Grell could do was lean his head against the chest of whoever was carrying him and drift in and out of sleep.

When he came to once more, Grell felt himself sitting on a floor with his back leaning against the wall behind him. The air was different around him. He did not feel like he was in any danger, though he was unsure why he felt that way. He forced his eyes open just a little, but could not see much. Someone was kneeling in front of him, but his vision was blurred. If the redhead had any energy, he might have jumped when he suddenly felt the sure and steady hands at his chest… Was that William unbuttoning his shirt? Grell forced out a tiny whisper, "W—Will?"

"Keep your mouth shut and save what little strength you have left."

Yeah, that was Will.

Grell could have wept for joy upon realizing that William had truly come for him. He let his body completely relax now that he was sure of his safety. His mind slipped, once again, into that fog of unconsciousness. All he remembered later was warm water and soft blankets.

Grell had continued to bleed from one wound or another and dark brown blood trailed from his mouth, staining William's shirt and jacket. William sighed as he realized they would have to be replaced. He was loath to move Grell with broken ribs, especially with no way to stabilize any movement that might cause more damage. He was sure that was why more blood still leaked from the corners of Grell's mouth, but there was simply no avoiding the situation. William had to move swiftly and carefully if Grell was to survive.

William took Grell to his home as he assumed Grell had never really bothered to keep a decent amount of first aid supplies in his own home. William had walked through his door and immediately had taken Grell to the bathroom and set him down. While the tub began to fill with water, William set his death scythe aside, removed his gloves and jacket and placed them on the counter. Rolling up his sleeves, he noticed Grell trying to move. William knelt beside Grell and began unbuttoning his vest and shirt to get a better look at the damage. Though he had told Grell to shut his mouth, William could not help the feeling of relief that ran through him when he had heard the redhead speak. That was the first positive sign Grell had given him.

Upon seeing the extent of the damage covering every inch of the redhead's body, William grimaced. Grell's skin was stained with the color he so loved and was marred with vicious patches of black, blue, and sickly yellow bruises. William stared at the mottled expanse of skin that was revealed as he peeled the scraps of fabric away from the skin, little by little. Pieces stuck to the holes that punctuated the once-fair skin that belonged to his subordinate. Reaching down, William ran his hands across the smooth muscles of Grell's stomach, pushing away more bloodied fabric. The seriousness of the moment was tainted by the fact that, even injured as he was, it was all too easy to picture Grell's reaction if had he been awake. The thought was nearly enough to cause William to jerk his hand away as he tried to pull the last of the shirt off mangled skin beneath it.

Once Grell was undressed, William again slid his arm under the redhead's knees and carefully picked him up. The possibility of the broken ribs causing further damage made William frown, but there was no way that he was going to let Grell sleep in his bed covered in blood. It was hard to believe that William had ever felt true hatred or anger towards him, as he looked at the man that he held in his arms. Whatever Grell might have done, he had never deserved this.

The color of the bath water quickly changed to brown as Grell was submerged. William began to scrub gently at the clusters of gashes and cuts. William rolled his eyes at the comments Grell might have given him. Witnessing his boss wiping him clean from the grotesque wounds all over his back and chest would have made William's job much more difficult to accomplish. While he tried to shove these thoughts away and focus on the task at hand, William realized that he truly needed the flamboyancy of the other man in his life. William thought it strange that the very person he seemed ever frustrated with for not doing work and interrupting him was the very person he had missed. The state of Grell's hair thoroughly distracted William for several moments. Several spots were matted together with dry blood that did not want to detach from the red locks.

Four washcloths and a half hour later, William had finished cleaning him up. He threw a towel around Grell's shoulders before lifting him for a third time and walking into William's bedroom. The dark maroon silk lounge chair in the corner near the bed appeared to be the easiest place to tend to Grell's injuries. William set him down, went to the bathroom cupboard, and quickly returned with bandages and astringent for the wounds.

While cleaning the wounds, William had been amazed that none seemed to be infected yet. Perhaps some of Grell's healing ability had remained just strong enough to keep that particular misfortune from occurring. William wondered if the astringent, when applied to the cuts, would get any rise out of Grell, but no. Not even the healing burn of the ointment registered to the man's unconscious mind. Bandages were quickly wrapped around Grell's torso, legs, chafed and skinned wrists by William's deft hands. When he was finished, William thought that Grell already looked healthier. He used the towel to soak the excess water from Grell's hair before placing it with the washcloths and his clothes in the bathroom that would need washing.

William went to his wardrobe and took one of his nightshirts from a drawer to let Grell wear while he slept. The covers on the bed were drawn back and William deposited Grell gently onto the cotton sheets before covering him. Grell made no movement through all of this. It was probably the least amount of life William had ever seen in his co-worker. He did not entirely enjoy this silent Grell. Pressing his fingers against Grell's throat, he was comforted to notice that his pulse was already considerably stronger. Fingers trailed across Grell's slender neck and brushed the black welts across his throat. A steep cut across his face was still healing as well.

Anger welled up in William again as he thought about all Grell had been made to endure for seven long weeks. His fingers made their way a little lower, drifting towards Grell's chest, before William caught himself and pulled his hand away. Shaking his head, he sat down in the chair Grell had occupied only a few minutes before. He was tired — beyond tired. William sat staring at the redhead for any sign of movement. The lateness of the hour made his head ache. Glasses were soon placed on the bedside table as he leaned his head back and tried to relax from the day's events. Sleep soon overtook him.

Early morning light warmed William's face and the brightness trailing through the window caused him to wake. He immediately reached for his glasses. After setting them in place, he glanced at the redhead across from him. Grell was still asleep. However, he was breathing now. William stood up stiffly and walked to the side of the bed. Covers were drawn back so that William could check the bandages. Nothing out of the ordinary could be seen. William did not want to move Grell again until he was healed. Food was definitely something that Grell would need if the wounds were to heal any faster, but William would let him sleep for now. As long as Grell was alive, that was what mattered.

William sighed as he replaced the covers over his subordinate. He still needed to do some work today. Quietly exiting the bedroom, William walked down his small hallway to see the mantle clock.

_6:04_

He had slept less than five hours but would need to leave for work by seven. This was one of William's shorter work days. Still, it was possible that Grell could wake up during that time. Walking over to the desk that stood along the wall to his right, William opened a top drawer to remove a sheet of paper. He reached for the pen and ink that sat atop the desk and wrote Grell a message:

Grell,

Be grateful that you are not dead. That demon nearly succeeded in killing you. Although you are bandaged, you are still healing, so do not move. Wait for me to return.

William

William folded the message, went to the bedroom and placed it against the reading lamp on the bedside table. That done, he set about preparing for work. He changed into a fresh set of clothes, though he did so in the bathroom. Unconscious or not, William was not going to change in front of the redhead. The comb was run swiftly through his disheveled hair, putting it precisely in place. A quick adjustment of his glasses and he picked up his death scythe. Before leaving, William stopped to look at Grell again. Although William was confident that Grell was safe here, a small knot formed in his stomach at the thought of leaving him alone so soon. Perhaps William should take him to the infirmary…

Scythe met glasses as William pushed them up on his face. Grell would be fine where he was for a few hours. Should he awaken, there was William's note. The sooner William left, the sooner he would be able to return.

William clocked out and hour early. Not that he was slacking, not at all. He had finished field collections for the day and did not have to work the next day. He carried the stack of forms he would have to fill out and look over home with him. He could still work while he kept an eye on Grell's condition.

William unlocked his front door and entered his home. After shutting the door, he deposited the stack of files on his coffee table and crossed the wooden floor to the bedroom. Opening the door slowly, he peered inside. Grell lay peacefully in slumber. William's note was still propped, untouched, against the lamp. William entered the room and strode over to the oak wardrobe at his left. He slipped off his tie and jacket and hung them neatly inside.

The sleeping form of the other man drew William's gaze and he crossed to the bed. He was alarmed to see beads of sweat on his subordinate's face. Cursing silently, William pulled away the blankets. White gauze was loosened, and William began to slowly unwind the bandages on Grell's right wrist.

Upon reaching skin, William was relieved to see that only a few small scratches from the shackles remained. The skin had grown back quickly. The left wrist showed the same conditions; smooth skin had re-formed over tendons and veins. Then the issue was probably coming from one of the larger injuries on Grell's body. William hoped that the twelve hours or so of sleep that Grell had gotten undisturbed had been long enough for his broken ribs to heal. William slid his right hand under Grell's slender neck to lift him to a sitting position and slide the button down shirt over his shoulders. Reaching around Grell's middle, William began to unwrap the bandages.

With both arms around the redhead, William noticed that Grell's scent was more subdued. His exotic perfume was not assailing William's nostrils, but even without it Grell still had a naturally sweet smell. Soft strands of red hair tickled William's cheek and in their closeness, he nearly blushed. His hands worked at the bindings more quickly. He had only unwound a couple layers when he saw a dark spot on the fabric surrounding Grell's chest. The spot became larger the closer William got to skin. It was dark brown, almost black in color. As the last of the material slipped away, William saw what he had hoped he would not; nearly all of the puncture wounds had scabbed over and were considerably smaller than the previous night, but a particularly large and deep gash was still very much present on the right side of Grell's chest, near his collar bone. The area around the cut was swollen and the skin was dark. A grotesque brown substance mixed with some residue blood oozed from the edges.

William wrinkled his nose as a nauseating stench emanated from the wound. Something might be caught inside the cut that Grell's body had not managed to expel before it tried healing. William bent over the redhead and tried to gently push the edges of the cut apart to see if he could find anything near the surface. Immediately, yellow liquid seeped from the wound as the pressure of the surface was released. William recoiled and went for fresh washcloths, a bowl of water and a pair of tweezers.

After mopping up the liquid secretion, William soaked the rag in some cool water to flush the infected gash before he tried looking under the skin again. A bit of the top bones of Grell's rib cage could be seen beyond the split skin. A small protrusion from one of the bones signaled William to a factor that may have caused the infection. Pushing the edges of the separation open a little more, William inserted the tweezers and began to work at releasing the foreign substance. A few tense moments passed before William managed to slip the end of the tweezers between object and bone and pry it loose. William removed what appeared to be a pointy bit of silver, no wider than half a centimeter. He frowned as he identified the object as the very tip of a silver knife. Whether the demon had deliberately broken the end off in Grell's body or not did not matter to William. The damage had been done.

William disposed of the silver tip and washed the tweezers before leaving them to soak in a jar of alcohol. He redressed the infected cut and hoped it would now be able to heal properly. William brushed the red bangs aside to feel Grell's forehead and was unsurprised at the feverish heat beneath his fingers. Another washcloth was wetted and William wiped the sweat from the redhead's face before placing it across his forehead.

William stared once again at Grell's sleeping form. He would never admit he was worried, but he was. Grell did not show any signs of waking soon. William wondered if the demon had managed to do some other damage besides the external injuries. On the other hand, Grell was incredibly fond of sleep and perhaps the overabundance of rest was controlled more by Grell's mind than his body. William shook his head as he thought that Grell was simply making up for the time he had not been able to sleep at work.

_What am I going to do about you?_

It occurred to William that he had not at first given any thought of simply taking Grell to the infirmary at the association. Why had he not done that? That would have been the most logical choice at the time he recovered Grell, and William now realized that he had only been thinking of saving Grell himself. Did he really care so much for this other man?

William thought seriously for a moment about how he would have reacted had Grell died. He would have been angry. The death would have caused a great deal of trouble and even more overtime at work. But William felt something else stir in his chest; a great and utter feeling of deep remorse over the thought of Grell having nearly died—_Died._ William did not care to admit that Grell had managed to see past the hardened demeanor he always kept up at work; that Grell could push him into saying and doing things he never thought he would. Grell had always been the friend William had never particularly wanted, but as soon as that presence had been ripped away, William now wanted more than ever to protect him.

Sighing, William realized that he was wasting valuable time thinking about Grell instead of working on the files that were still sitting in his living room. He would be here when Grell woke up and, in the meantime, papers called for his signature.

In the kitchen, which was predominately modeled in oak, William brewed a small pot of coffee for himself. As he sipped the warm brown liquid, a small cluster of leaves blew past the window over his sink. William watched as the wind began to pick up outside and detach more leaves from their limbs. The turn of the season was at hand. William enjoyed the fact that he was not out working in that chilled wind and was instead holding a steaming cup of coffee in his home. He refilled the cup and took himself to the leatherback sofa in the living room to tackle the stack of files.

Hours passed. William was content with working diligently in the confines of his own home. Every so often he would slip back to the bedroom to check on Grell. Fever continued to burn across his brow as he slept on as if in a coma. William would rewet the rag on Grell's forehead each time before returning to his paperwork. William worked on into the night and still Grell's condition did not change. William did not feel particularly tired himself although he must have been, as he dozed off a few times. The coffee kept him conscious through most of night as he worked between paper and patient, wondering when Grell would come back to him.

After William had placed the last file aside, he had leaned back against the sofa and slipped off into a dream as he watched the sun rise.

_He was standing just on the other side of his bedroom door. Would he be awake yet? Would he be glad to see him? While William thought about this, he felt something jerk him back. He tried to walk forward but red rope snaked around his middle and began to pull him away. Where was his scythe when he needed it? William tried to yell but no sound could be heard anywhere. He had to make it through that door! He needed to know that the other was alright! William strained against the rope and it began to slide along his body, burning him. But he felt it weakening… Maybe if he tried just a little more... William reached out for the door handle and just managed to grasp it. Immediately, the red rope evaporated and William burst through the door. But all was not well as he had hoped; Grell was shivering violently. The wounds had all reopened. Blood stained the bedclothes and was dripping off the ends of the blankets. Grell lay in a pool of blood. William ran to the redhead's side and placed both hands on his shoulders trying to steady him._

"_Grell! Wake up, Grell!"_

_Grell was whimpering. At the sound of William's voice, his eyes flew wide and absolute terror was the only emotion on his face. A white film glazed his eyes as though he was blind and the shivering had ceased. Grell looked in William's direction and whispered, "Sooner."_

_And then Grell Sutcliff stopped breathing. A pulse was felt for in vain. He clasped Grell's hand as it grew icy beneath his fingers. Then pain. William felt his skin being ripped open and saw his own blood soaking through his shirt. He bent over Grell who lay dead and placed his head on the redhead's chest, wishing for a heartbeat. William felt himself slipping away as well and entering an icy nothing. He could do nothing more…_

The cold wooden floor was now pressed into the side of William's face. He sat up quickly and clipped his shoulder on the coffee table in the process. Rubbing the pain away, William noticed that he was breathing heavily. Light shone through the window, though it was not past noon. He was glad that his glasses had not broken while he had been on the floor. What was that dream about?

_He could not have possibly…_

William rose quickly and made his way to the back room. He passed quickly through the door to see Grell. His right hand went to Grell's throat, his left hand to Grell's wrist. He waited a moment before a feeling of relief swept over him as he felt the pulse. Grell was still alive. William discovered that he had been holding his own breath during this time and he allowed oxygen to once again fill his lungs. The hand at Grell's throat moved to the man's forehead where he noted that the fever had finally broken. The fingers on William's other hand drifted to over just over Grell's palm. William had not spoken since he had brought Grell to his home but he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to speak the other man's name. He thought that was rather silly, like something Grell would do himself, but he felt the need nonetheless.

"Grell."

Just that, just the first name, but the response was instantaneous. Still bent over Grell, William stiffened as he saw eyes twitch beneath the lids. Grell's hand closed slowly over William's fingers. William stood transfixed as green eyes finally met his own. Grell blinked slowly as he registered who it was bending over him. And then Grell Sutcliff smiled up at the face staring at him and squeezed his hand as he whispered, "Will."

William's eyes softened for a rare moment. Grell's utterance of his name had said much more than a single syllable. The word told of the thankfulness and gratitude Grell had for William. And William registered a few other emotions in the bunch as well. He could say so many things to Grell at this very moment. It took him a moment to find his voice again.

"You are awake."

"Yes… Where am I?"

"My home — you have been unconscious for two days."

"Have I? I didn't think—"

Grell began to cough. William had to help him sit up until the fit ended. Grell leaned back against propped up pillows as he breathed slowly. William stood straight now and said, "Do not move."

He left and returned in a few moments with a glass of water which he handed to Grell. Grell drained the glass in a few moments and gave it back to William.

"Thank you."

William made no response, but walked away and refilled the glass from the bathroom sink. Then, he rejoined Grell and placed the glass on the bedside table should Grell have need of it again. William sat on the edge of the bed and met Grell's eyes.

"How do you feel?"

Grell shifted a bit, as though making sure that he could still move his body, but he winced, "It hurts."

"Where?"

"Everywhere. I am incredibly sore, but I think I'm still in one piece."

"You are. I saw to that."

Grell smiled warmly at William again. "Thank you, Will."

William still wanted to be absolutely sure that his coworker had completely and successfully healed. "How are your ribs?"

"Huh?" Grell frowned at the odd question.

"At least three of your ribs were broken when I found you."

"Oh…" Grell placed a hand over his torso. "They seem to be fine."

"Good, that should just leave this," William leaned forward and pushed the fabric of the shirt Grell was wearing aside so he could remove the bandage from Grell's chest.

Grell watched as his manager began to take away the fabric binding. The cloth tickled his skin and he wondered that William had not made him take it off himself. As the final layer was pulled away, Grell saw nothing incredibly out of the ordinary. However, he saw a section of skin that was a little pinker in color than the surrounding area. The section was several inches long and appeared smooth and shiny. Grell wrinkled his nose at the sight of his flawed flesh but thought for a moment about the state he must have been in before William's treatment to still have visible marks on his body.

_His body…_

Only at that moment did Grell realize his position. He was in nothing more than a large, white button down shirt which must have been William's. The shirt was currently unbuttoned and having William stare at his exposed chest made Grell blush. If William had noticed, he did not show it. Grell shifted again and felt more bandages around parts of his legs. William must have done all of it. The realization made warmth swell in Grell's chest. He grinned and placed a hand over William's on the bed. Their eyes locked.

"Will you allow a maiden to thank her prince?"

William sighed and removed his hand to push up on his glasses, "Why do you refuse to listen to sense? I told you to have nothing to do with the demon; it will only get you into further trouble."

"I am sorry, Will," Grell said as he reached for the glass of water. "I actually didn't go to see him, but his brat ordered him to capture me! Then he locked me up. I couldn't break free and… Oh, Will, the things he did…"

Grell shuddered and took a small sip from the glass. "I couldn't move. He came everyday and one time he even—" His face went even paler and slammed the glass back down on the side table making some water spill, "My face! He sliced my face! I need a mirror! Is it bad? Oh, Will, don't look at me!" Grell bent forward with his hands hiding his face, shaking once again.

William sat by during the outburst but when Grell began making a noise between a moan and a whimper he said, "Be quiet. You are overreacting. That cut healed some time ago and there is no mark left."

The redhead stayed hunched over for a moment before he sat up slowly. The noise had ceased but he kept his head bowed. William stiffened when the other man leaned into his shoulder. He almost stood up at that moment but relented. Grell was trembling. William rolled his eyes; he might as well, at this point. An arm was placed awkwardly around Grell's shoulders and when he did not move, William placed his other hand on the back of the bowed head holding the feminine man.

A few short, quiet sobs came from the redhead and he slipped his arms around William's waist. The two stayed like that for several moments. The stricter of the two figured he should have known better than to encourage his subordinate but… he did not mind as much as he thought he would. Sitting there, holding Grell, actually felt more relaxing than anything else. William could not understand that. How could one get relaxation from simply holding another? For once, this was not an uncomfortable closeness and William found himself leaning his cheek into the soft, red hair and inhaling deeply. Little did he realize that that the man he held was doing much the same with his face pressing into William's chest.

The first to shift was Grell. He wiped a few tears from his face before looking up to William and managing a small smile he whispered fervent thanks, "I knew you would come. Whatever your reasons for coming, I still believed you would. Thank you, Will. Thank—"

Grell blinked in surprise when soft, firm lips met his own but was soon swept away in the feeling. His eyes closed and their lips moved together. William's arms were still around him and Grell snaked his hand around to weave his fingers into the hair at the nape of William's neck. The kiss was such a tender one that Grell could scarcely believe it was William before him. He pressed himself into it willingly and shivered at William's gentle touch. Even when William broke away from him, Grell released a happy sigh.

"Oh… oh my… What was that for, Will?"

"I wondered if you were ever going to wake up."

Grell raised an eyebrow, "And that's why you kissed me?"

"Not precisely. I was avoiding your question."

Grell leaned back against the pillows with a sigh and tilted his head to the left, "Well, you could have just kissed me while I was asleep to see if I would wake up."

"This is not a fairytale, Grell," William responded shifting his glasses.

"Oh, but Will, it could have been! Kisses as sweet as that would make any sleeping maiden want to wake up just to see the handsome man before her."

William opened his mouth to reply but at that moment he heard a strange rumble and saw the redhead flush. Seven weeks with no food would do that to a reaper and William had forgotten about that circumstance of Grell's imprisonment. He still had not eaten in all this time. William rose from the side of the bed.

"Stay still for a time while I bring you something."

Grell nodded and William hoped that the redhead would actually listen for once. The stoic man walked to his kitchen to retrieve a glass bottle of chicken broth from his icebox. Grell would need to eat something incredibly light on his stomach and he probably was not going to like that. The broth was thick as William heated it and he had to thin it considerably with water. The preparation did not take long and soon William was carrying a steaming bowl to his bedridden worker.

As the tray was set on his lap, Grell stared blankly at the bowl before he looked back up to William with an incredulous expression, "Really, William?"

The taller man stared coldly down at Grell, "Is there a problem?"

"Will, you just gave me a bowl of warm flavored water!"

"I am fully aware of the fact, Sutcliff."

"But I'm _hungry_."

"You have not eaten in several weeks. Despite your hunger, your body will need some time to readjust to food again. You are going to eat that or continue starving."

Grell folded his arms and pouted for a moment before his stomach made an audible growl once again. He sighed, picked up the spoon and began to eat slowly.

William nodded and took a seat in the lounge chair beside the bed. While Grell ate, William inquired as to how Grell had been captured and his treatment in the past weeks. Grell reluctantly began to relate his capture. His voice grew halting and quiet at points when he remembered his inability to do anything as Sebastian returned day after day on his master's orders to mutilate Grell's body. The unceasing burning, beating, and stabbing had nearly overwhelmed him as Sebastian had worked with precision to draw out Grell's death for as long as his immortal body would allow.

Grell broke down several times during the telling. With each detail that was added, William's countenance grew darker. What the demon had done infuriated William. He had rarely seen Grell truly afraid, and his current condition showed that he had been terrified through most of this torment. Grell's free nature could not bear being trapped, and he had been subjected to it for weeks. William regretted not looking for him sooner. William could have prevented some of Grell's pain, but he had been too angry at the redhead for disappearing again. Perhaps William could make amends for some of this. He would have to make sure the demon would not try anything like this on one his workers ever again.

When Grell had finished, William stood. "Are you still hungry?"

"Yes. Can I have something different?" Grell looked hopeful.

"No," William responded as he picked up the empty bowl.

Grell slumped back against his pillows as his supervisor left the room. William went to refill the bowl and a small plan began sprouting in his mind. Nothing complex, but he wanted to make sure that he made his meaning quite clear. He returned to Grell and placed the bowl before him once again. Grell began eating, this time without complaint.

William began to leave to think further but Grell's voice stopped him.

"Wait, Will."

William turned back to see the redhead staring intently at him. "What is it?"

"How did you find me?"

The unexpected question made William raise an eyebrow. "Why the sudden curiosity?"

"Well, I was gone for a long time. Something must have happened for you to finally come for me. I just wondered."

William shifted and glanced away. "I am not sure, Grell." He still did not entirely understand what had happened in his office that evening.

"How could you not be sure?" Grell frowned.

"I—" William tried to think of how to explain. "You came to me, I think. I was getting ready to finish some reports when I heard you scream. I saw blood and that demon. So I left the office."

Grell blinked, "You had a vision?"

"Something of that nature I suppose, though I am unable to explain such an occurrence."

Grell smiled and shook his head. "You don't have to. Do you have to go out tonight?"

"I have just one assignment for the evening and I should leave to take care of it soon. You should finish eating."

"I won't keep you then." Grell sipped at the broth.

William donned his jacket and tie. When he felt a small bulge in the inner pocket of his jacket, he reached in and removed Grell's glasses that he had placed there. He had forgotten about them, but now walked over and placed them on the table beside Grell's glass of water. "These are yours."

Grell picked up his glasses and ran a finger lovingly over the frame. "I thought they had been broken."

"They were not. I will be going now."

"Come back safely, Will."

William blinked at the command. Grell spoke as though he knew exactly where William was headed and he found his hand being grasped by a now worried Grell.

"For my sake, you have to come back safely, Will. Please."

William leaned down and kissed Grell on the top of his head. "You should try and get some rest again. I should not be very long in returning."

The redhead turned his face to William's. He placed a hand on William's cheek and pressed a desperate kiss onto his lips. Grell did not want him to go, and as William found himself leaning back into the kiss, he did not want to leave Grell. William allowed the contact for a few more seconds before he broke away. He quickly walked to the door, but before exiting through it, William spoke with his back to Grell. "I will return."

He was standing on one of the statuaries on the Phantomhive manor grounds with a good view of one of the main hallway windows. The demon was definitely there, probably just putting his master to bed given the hour. William would wait to see the filth walk by before moving.

William did not have to wait long. As soon as he saw the figure pass by the window, his death scythe shot out at blinding speed going straight for the demon's head. The scythe crashed through the glass and William saw the agile butler shift ever so slightly to remain unscathed. The blade imbedded itself into the far wall. William saw the demon turn to look at him through the broken window and frowned before walking away. He jumped from the statue and waited. The demon would come to him now and William was ready.

Sebastian exited the manor and walked calmly over to where William was standing. His tone of voice was pleasant, edged with slight annoyance as he asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit to the manor? I must say, you have come at a rather late hour. My master is already asleep."

William glowered at the scum before him. "You should owe me your life for the one you nearly took."

"Oh, did he survive? What a pity. For a moment, I thought we might both be rid of him forever. I should not be so lenient next time."

"There will not be a next time, demon."

William lashed out with his death scythe, but Sebastian leapt to his right and dodged. William lunged, intending to swing the pole down onto the demon, but Sebastian was ready to parry the blow with the Phantomhive silverware. The two exchanged blows with Sebastian successfully driving two knives into William's upper left arm.

Finally, William had the beast cornered between two walls of the mansion and extended the open head of the scythe once more. Sebastian brought a knife forward and jammed it between the blades. They paused for a moment, and William walked up to Sebastian, still pressing the scythe forward as he retracted it until he was in right in front of the demon.

"You will listen now, and listen well, demon scum."

Sebastian was caught off guard as William drove his knee into his stomach. That distraction was all William needed to push past the knife and pin the demon to the wall by his neck. The scythe's blade slid smoothly into his neck and caused several trickles of blood to trail down and stain the collar of his shirt.

"You will not come after him ever again."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "How can you be so sure?"

William twisted the scythe slightly, "Because if you ever dare to try and kill him again, you will have me to answer to and you will not escape with your life. I will reap you before you can eat your next meal, you can be certain of that."

He did not wait for the demon to respond. William slid his scythe, along with the demon, across the wall and flung him away. The two knives were pulled from his arm and dropped to the ground. Turning away from the mansion, William made his way from the property. He did not look back; as he was sure the demon was not following him. He walked away slowly, though he now wanted to be home. Grell Sutcliff was alive and healing, away from cold and dark torture. Grell would most likely be sound asleep again in his bed and William T. Spears was eager to see him again.

Final chapter everyone!

This chapter taught me that if I ever had to take care of someone as sick as Grell, I would most likely end up killing them *facepalm* I will never be a doctor thank goodness.

Thank you to ~Zoni for the beta *nodnod*


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